


Sport

by undergrounddaydreams



Series: 100 Themes Challenge [13]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 14:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergrounddaydreams/pseuds/undergrounddaydreams
Summary: In which Sarah follows a flock of owls into the deep, dark woods





	Sport

The earthy scent of decay bubbled up amid the calls of whippoorwills and spring peepers. Curled up in the old rattan chair on the back porch, Sarah stared off into the distance, the city lights drowning out the stars on the horizon, giving the marsh a surreal glow. A cool wind swept over the wetlands from the woods behind what used to be her grandmother’s house, now hers. It was sweet, smelling of trees and fallen leaves, and made living this close to the marsh bearable.

Like almost every night since she was fifteen, sleep evaded her. The aimless staring helped—the low light easing her into an unfocused sort of trance, letting her eyes relax and her thoughts scatter, the breeze drifting through them, pushing them farther apart, inviting sleep to settle in the spaces in between.

But some nights were easier than others. Sarah tucked her feet in closer, sipping from her still warm mug of tea—sugarplum fairy leftover from Christmas. She pulled the sides of her hooded cardigan closer around her, her high school homecoming t-shirt worn too thin over the last decade. Tonight was one of the bad nights—too many thoughts of years long gone, how alone she felt, _what ifs_... This particular night was always the worst night. On this night thirteen years ago, she ran the Labyrinth, and for the thirteen years after, it had abandoned her, gone silent to the point that she wasn’t sure if it was even real. There was only one thing she could truly count on—through everything, insomnia had been her faithful companion.

Hearing a rustle in the giant pecan tree near the house, Sarah looked up and caught a glimpse of a flock of owls; they perched briefly on the branches before they flew off again toward the woods. She set her mug down on the side table and moved to the far side of the screened-in porch, hugging herself against the chill. She had no trouble spotting them, swooping and chasing each other through the trees at the edge of the woods, so unlike their usual solitary, silent hunt.

Deciding she could use a walk to clear her head, Sarah went inside the house, slipped her rubber rain boots on over her sweatpants, and grabbed her camera from her desktop. Stepping outside, she let the screen door slap shut behind her, not bothering to lock it. She’d only lived here for six months, and already she was picking up her grandmother’s bad habits.

She crossed the yard into the woods, the rush and rustle of the owls through the overhang of branches leading her way. They seemed somewhat aimless, in no hurry to get anywhere in particular, and she found it easy to keep up with them. Occasionally, they paused and perched for a moment, giving her a chance to take a picture or two—no flash, nighttime landscape setting. When they took off again, resuming their game, she followed. She often lost sight of them, lead on instead by their very unowl-like racket. Hearing them quiet once more, she looked around for their newest perch. She spotted them in a tree just outside a small clearing.

It was lovely with all five owls perched at different heights, burnished by the moonlight, the long arms of the tree reaching out across the clearing. Each owl was different in size and color—she recognized the barn owl, the great horned owl, and the screech owl, but wasn’t sure about the other two. It seemed strange that these five very different owls were hanging out together and in such a weird way. She knelt down beside a stump to the side of the path. Setting her camera on top, she secured her messy top knot of hair with an extra twist to keep it out of her eyes, and then scooted so she lay down awkwardly, half draped over the stump as she used the sturdy surface to frame her shot.

Just before she was about to press the button to trigger the shutter, she paused. One by one the owls swooped down from the trees into the clearing, transforming into men before reaching the ground, some landing more gracefully than others, and one more gracefully than them all. He was light where they were dark, graceful where they were clumsy, quiet when they were raucous, collected when they were exuberant. She watched frozen as he conjured a crystal, throwing it at the ground, flames erupting from the shattered pieces. His hair glowed white and orange in the firelight, casting gashed shadows over his sharp features. Conjuring another crystal, this one he tossed carelessly over his shoulder along with the words, “Drinks on me, boys.” The other men, if she could call them that, gave a round of discordant cheers in return as they filled mugs from the barrel now gracing the clearing. He sunk down, lithe as a cat, against a fallen tree near the fire, quietly staring into the flames, not partaking of the drink himself.

What in the world had she just walked into?

Sarah watched the scene a few moments longer, her eyes drawn to the Goblin King. Memories that had faded to washed out impressions over the last thirteen years flushed with color and substance, catching her off guard and stealing her breath. It came back so fast that she couldn’t make complete sense of it—conflicting thoughts and feelings she’d forgotten suddenly very strong and very real. It was disorienting to the point that she nearly forgot where she was and what she was doing, until her camera almost tumbled out of her grip. She grabbed for it, catching it just in time, and let out a quiet sigh of relief when it seemed like she’d gone unnoticed.

What in the world was she _doing_?

Out in the woods alone at 3:00 in the morning, her nearest neighbor at least a mile away—she was so incredibly stupid. She should have outgrown that years ago. What had she been thinking?

She had to get the hell out of there and fast. It was disturbingly difficult to pull her gaze away from her former nemesis. Slipping her camera into the pocket of her sweatpants, she rose to a half crouch, took a tentative step backwards, and froze at the sound of a dry branch cracking underfoot. All heads, save one, turned to look in her direction. Feeling her muscles tense for flight, she turned to hightail it out of there only to run smack into a massive chest. Arms wrapped around her tightly, picking her up off the ground. The man who caught her announced loudly to the others, “Just when we thought there was no sport to be had.”

Her carried her struggling toward their makeshift campground, dumping her at the center of the circle of men near the fire. She stumbled, attempting to regain her balance as she looked warily at her captors. They moved around her, shifting so that she couldn’t keep any one in view for long. They gave her a wide berth, leering and taunting…

“All alone in the woods?”

“Where’s your trail of breadcrumbs?”

“You’re a pretty one. I wonder what you taste like.”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“On your way to grandmother’s house?”

“Yeah, where’s your basket? You need to pay the toll.”

“Do you want to play? How ‘bout hide & seek?”

_Who are these guys—storybook rejects?_ Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes. Clichéd or not, they scared the shit out of her.

The one who looked more like a weasel than an owl, stepped forward, moving close enough to touch. He circled her, his eyes sliding over her figure, never quite making it to her face. “What’s your name, little mousey?” He plucked at the bottom of her sweater. Surprised, Sarah jerked away and stepped out of reach. She quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t moved too near the others, and when she looked back, the weasel was close, too close. He offered her a slick smile, reaching out to capture a lock of her hair that had slipped free of the knot. “You wanna be my pet?” He let the length of it slide through his grasp, curling the end around his finger and tugging, as if to pull her closer. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

Jareth had been quiet through it all, not looking away from the fire and idly tracing designs in the dirt with a stick. Suddenly he spoke, quiet but commanding. “Liam. Enough.” The weasel immediately stepped back, and so did the others, breaking the circle, opening a direct path to the Goblin King. He looked up, his gaze slamming into hers, his face devoid of emotion. “You’re scaring our guest.”

He stood, walking leisurely toward her as he held her gaze. Sarah licked her lips nervously and pulled her sweater tighter as she crossed her arms over her chest.

_Did he remember her?_

_Was that a good thing?_

He stopped a couple of feet in front of her and held out his hand. “I can help you.”

She hesitated a moment, looking around at the troublingly eager faces on each side of her, before meeting his expressionless regard. He gave no sign of recognizing her, and he seemed to be the one in control here. She tentatively placed her hand in his. Better the enemy you know, right?

As his fingers closed over hers, her breath hitched at the skin-to-skin contact, unexpectedly and unnervingly intimate. His thumb made a slow arch across the top of her hand as a smirk crept across his lips.

Keeping her hand in his, Jareth moved closer, stepping to the side and behind her, her arm stretched out on top of his. He interlaced his fingers with hers before trailing them down in between to her palm, where he paused to trace soft, lazy designs with his fingertips. She could just see the edge of his profile over her shoulder, his hair floating in the breeze, tickling the skin along her throat. He leaned further over her shoulder as he addressed the other men.

“Now, I think it’s only _fair_ , that we give our little mouse a head start.” He turned his head slightly, speaking directly to her. “Don’t you?”

When they whooped and hollered in agreement, Jareth continued to move behind her to her other side, dropping her hand. When she swung her head around, his eyes caught hers briefly before he leaned in close, his whisper teasing against her skin, “…before I eat you and make you scream.” His fingernails trailed up the back of her thigh and Sarah jumped at the touch, stepping out of reach with wide eyes.

He laughed, followed by his posse, while giving her an unhurried once-over.

Sarah looked at each of the men in turn before shifting her gaze back to Jareth. He had moved back toward the fire, poking in the flames with a stick. When the clearing had fallen silent, all eyes darting between the girl and their leader, Jareth looked up at her from under his lashes, the warm glow of the fire dancing over his face. His eyes were full of recognition, amusement, calculation, and something else she couldn't quite place—something dangerous. “I would get started, if I were you.”

Sarah considered her options for a second or two before she turned and ran. Stray branches clawed at her clothes and face, and she tripped awkwardly over her rubber boots. She thought about stopping to take them off, but when she heard the sounds of pursuit not far behind, she abandoned the idea. Soon all she could hear were her gasping breaths and pounding heart. When her boots kept getting sucked into the mud, she cursed and slowed to a walk to catch her breath.

Why the hell was it so muddy? She’d been running too long to still be in the middle of the woods. It was almost like she was headed into the marsh. Which wasn’t possible. She knew her way around these woods like her own backyard; she’d played out here for years. Confused, she stopped and turned to look at the path behind her, listening. She thought she could still hear them, but distantly. Listening for a few minutes more, it seemed as if the sounds were moving away, and she felt her first flash of relief. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, her hand pressed to her chest, trying to forcibly calm her racing heart. When she turned back around to get her bearings, she nearly shrieked as she came face-to-face with Jareth leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to be caught. It was much too easy for the young girl who once upon a time bested a king.”

She stared back at him, not knowing what to say. The last words she’d said to him were, “You have no power over me.” She was pretty sure that no power thing had an expiration date. She was not feeling in control of this situation at all.

She glanced behind her again, wondering if she’d been wrong about them moving away.

“No need to worry about the others.” At the sound of his voice, she whipped back around to face him. “I’ve made sure they’re otherwise occupied.”

She swallowed dryly, taking a step back. “Why would you do that?”

He smiled slowly, his gaze roaming over her figure before finding her eyes again. “I don’t like to share, princess.”

She stared at him dumbly, searching his mismatched eyes, for what, she didn’t know, feeling as if she could get lost there without ever finding it and that would be okay. She started to say something, but the words slipped away before she could open her mouth. She tried again, but all she could say was, “Oh.”

_What? Oh?_

Hearing how ridiculous she sounded snapped her out of her momentary stupor. She dragged her gaze away, scanning the area for any avenue of escape as she racked her brain for something, _anything_ to say other than “ _oh_.” She needed to buy some time.

She glanced back at him. “I didn’t know there were others like you.”

He raised a brow, clearly amused. “There is no one like me.” He began to take slow, measured strides toward her, matching her retreat. “Occasionally, I enjoy the camaraderie of the hunt.”

“The hunt? What are you hunting for?” Sarah stumbled over a root, and before she could correct course, she found herself backed up against a tree. She pressed into it as far as she could as Jareth stepped in close, caging her.

With one arm resting above her head, he leaned down to eye level. “What else do owls hunt for?” He searched her eyes for a moment before letting his gaze drift down to her mouth. He lowered his voice, his words a soft caress against her parted lips. “Little mice to taste and tease.” At her shaky intake of breath, he looked back up into her eyes, his lips curving in a knowing smile.

He pulled away slightly, tilting his head, his eyes falling to the side of her neck. He _tsked_ softly before leaning in again, his mouth close to her ear. “You’ve hurt yourself.” Before she could respond, he bent his head, his tongue sliding warm and wet against her throat.

Making a desperate sort of sound she’d never heard herself make ever in her life, Sarah stiffened in shock only a moment before ducking under his arm. She turned to face him, walking backward as she brought her hand up to her neck. She hadn’t realized she’d scratched herself until it wasn’t stinging anymore. He had healed her… or at least it seemed that way. She took a few more steps backward, eyeing him warily. His tongue on her neck made her feel things that she wasn’t prepared to analyze right now. She was genuinely concerned that if he did it again, she wouldn’t be able to walk away, and that would be bad… right?

He turned to face her, something feral and hungry in his eyes.

Of course it would be bad… he was dangerous and unpredictable, and though she didn’t _think_ he would actually hurt her, she didn’t want to call his bluff. What _would_ he do to her? What could he do? She had absolutely no idea.

Instead of coming after her, he propped one booted foot on the tree behind him as he leaned back against it. He watched her a long moment before speaking. “Do you want to be caught, Sarah?”

When she didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow. “No?”

When she still didn’t answer, he smiled in a way that was definitely not meant to put her at ease.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous for a such a pretty, sweet thing to be alone in the deep, dark woods? Predators hiding in every shadow, waiting for just the right moment to devour you?” He shook his head. “No, again?” His gaze dropped, languidly making its way back up to her eyes. “That’s hardly playing fair, Sarah. How can you expect us to resist such temptation when it walks so freely within our reach? It’s almost cruel.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

She started to protest in feminist outrage, but decided against it. He was baiting her, and she wasn’t going to bite.

“Another no, then?” He searched her eyes, and said more quietly, “I wonder what it’d take to make you say yes…” When he pushed off from the tree, Sarah immediately took a step back.

He smiled in that devilish way she was coming to recognize meant trouble. “So skittish. Tell you what… to show you that I’m not a complete animal, I’ll give you another chance. And I’ll even give you another head start.”

She gaped at him, not believing what she was hearing.

He raised a brow. “It’s not a big head start. You should run, Sarah.”

She didn’t waste any more time before she turned and ran. This time, home was right where it was supposed to be. She ran up the steps to the back porch and into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her, bewildered that she’d made it there at all. Not that she’d heard him following her. She sunk backwards against the door in relief, suddenly very tired. It had been such a long night… Her eyes had just drifted closed when she heard the startling crack of wood against the floor—the broom that her grandmother always kept near the front door had fallen across the doorway. Sarah struggled to stand, going over to pick up the broom and flip the deadbolt on the front door. She rested the side of her face on the cool wood, leaning heavily against it as she looked longingly at the stairs. Rallying, she managed to pull off her muddy boots and stumble up to her room on the second floor. Not bothering with the blankets, she crawled into bed and sank into her pile of pillows with a sigh. She was asleep within seconds.

Jareth watched her from the tree outside her bedroom window. The curtains billowed into the room as the window swung slowly open, granting entry to a crystal that floated out from his fingertips.

“Sleep, Sarah. Sleep. Dream. Run. Get your rest, for this game has just begun.”

Hovering above her head, the crystal popped, tiny specks of glitter drifting down to settle in her hair and over her skin, sparkling in an otherworldly light.

When she began to squirm, he laughed low and deep, his voice full of dark promise. “Dream of me, Sarah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. ;)


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